


Forging a Bond

by ceallaig



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: F/M, Wedding Night, fluff no smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 03:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1210936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceallaig/pseuds/ceallaig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the following prompt: Could someone write a fic of Thorin comforting his new wife because she's afraid of her first time? No smut, please, just fluff :)  Not sure if this is quite what the anon had in mind, but this is what came out.  Whoever you are, dear, hope this suits!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forging a Bond

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, yes, the endearments should have been in Khuzdul, but I didn't have the time to look them up. You'll have to imagine Thorin saying them that way ...

Hands, large and strong, accustomed to wielding ax and sword, hammer and tongs, hard and callused – how can they be gentle? Yet, they are, velvet smooth against her skin, softer than the night breeze seeping through the open window. He tips her face up gently, murmurs an endearment in Khuzdul, sapphire eyes shining in the candlelight. Beautiful, he calls her, and beloved, and the sweetest of all, wife. He knows she is afraid, and he takes his time, letting her set the pace, her trembling fingers undoing buttons and laces. He kneels at her feet as she sits on the bed, and her fingers trace the fine lines around his eyes, deepened by his smile, touch the silver shot beard and hair, so soft and thick, and slide across the arch of his lips. He kisses the fingers as they pass, and a soft laugh escapes him. She smiles in return, the butterflies in her stomach settling somewhat.

Those powerful hands reach up and release her hair, letting it cascade down over her shoulders. He looks into her eyes, an unspoken request, and she nods, leaning forward. The kiss is warm, asking but not demanding, and her hands reach out and tangle in the long dark locks, pulling him closer. This lasts a long moment, and his arms slip around her, holding gently, again requesting but not insisting. He pulls back before she is truly ready, and a small sigh escapes her. 

She feels the heat of the blush on her face but can’t stop herself from reaching for the hem of his tunic, pulling it free of his trousers, and there is a soft rumble of laughter as he assists her with taking it off him. There is a new heat rising in her as he gazes into her eyes. “Do you like what you see, my lady?” he asks, and his smile grows wider as she nods. Tentative fingers caress wide shoulders, broad chest, and the crisp-soft mat of dark hair. He stands, and, still looking into his eyes, her hands travel down and release belt and laces, working almost of their own accord. Trousers and small clothes fall away, and he is all power, and strength, and the fear kindles again briefly. Then her eyes grow wide with wonder as she realizes he, too, is trembling slightly as he once again kneels before her. “You are not the only one afraid, my heart,” he whispers. “I am master on the battlefield. I am king in the throne room. Here I am neither. I cannot conquer, I cannot command, I can only hope. I have won the greatest prize, but only you have the power to allow me to claim it fully.”

Her heart, already full, feels ready to burst in her chest. She stands, undoing the last of the laces on her gown, and lets it drop off her shoulders to puddle at her feet. He gazes up at her glory, and suddenly her fear is gone, drowned in those deep blue pools. She slides onto the soft furs and beckons him to join her. The heat of his kiss is only matched by hers as two souls are forged into one by an unbreakable bond.


End file.
